After the War Is Lost
by Mickey3
Summary: It wasn't so much the war itself that made his hatred for the Alliance burn so hot within him. It was what happened afterwards that made him curse the name of every purple belly that ever lived.
1. Prologue

**After the War Is Lost**  
By Mickey 

STORY STATUS: Completed 3/22/07

SEASON: Pre-Series

CONTENT WARNINGS: None in this part. Torture, violence, and language in later parts.

ARCHIVE PERMISSIONS: Ask first. I'll probably say yes.

DISCLAIMER: Firefly and its characters belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, and whoever else who has a claim to 'em. I, sadly, am not one of them.

WORD COUNT: 381

AUTHORS NOTE: I know it's probably been done quite a few times before, but not by me! Although this could really stand on it's own, I promise there is more to come! No promikses on when, though. This is my first attempt at writing a Firefly fic. Enjoy!

* * *

PROLOGUE

It wasn't so much the war itself that made his hatred for the Alliance burn so hot within him (though it played a part), nor what was done during it. It was a war after all, and horrible things where done, on both sides, during a war. He understood that. It was what happened afterwards that made him curse the name of every purple belly that ever lived.

The forced surrender of Serenity Valley had bent his spirit and destroyed his faith in God, but it was their time in the POW camps that ignited the smoldering flames of hatred that had, until then, only been simmering.

Two weeks after the official surrender, those who survived were picked up by Alliance transport ships and taken to holding facilities to be "debriefed and processed".

Being the ranking solider left from that battle, Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds was quickly singled out and separated from his men. He was sure it would be the standard "admit you were wrong and sing the praises of the Almighty and Glorious Alliance" debriefing then he'd be reunited with his troops and they would all be released. After all, the war was over, so what did they need prisoners for? They didn't need the Intel anymore. The Independents had not only surrendered the valley, but themselves as well. Which was why they'd been left in the valley so long. Left to deal with the stench of the dead and dying, the decomposing bodies of former friends and enemies, and the never-ending hunger. They had, in a since, been abandoned by both sides while the negotiations where conducted.

Mal's second in command and close fried, Corporal Zoë Alleyne, protested his separation. Loudly. A rifle to the head effectively silenced her. Mal struggled against his captors to protect her, and was rewarded with the same vicious rifle butt to the head. He was dragged, unceremoniously, away. He was brought to a room with manacles hanging from the ceiling. The two men who held him wasted no time clasping him in then left him hanging there, his feet barely touching the floor. It was there, in that room, and in the mines that would come later, that Mal learned the true meaning of hell. And just how inhuman human beings could be.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/27/07

WORD COUNT: 1,748

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Chinese translations were taken from a few different Firefly sites. I couldn't find anything saying how long the war lasted, so for the purpose of this fic, I'm going with five years.

/words is someone's thoughts/

* * *

Mal sighed heavily as he waited for his captors to return. "Well now, this is an unexpected twist." He muttered. The manacles held his hands up shoulder length apart; his feet barely touched the floor. He estimated it had been about an hour since they'd, literally, left him hanging there. His shoulders where beginning to get sore, so he stood on his toes to relieve the stress on them. The position did nothing for his throbbing head either.

Mal snorted in disgust as he looked around the room as much as his current position would allow. The Alliance definitely had more than just talking in mind. He estimated the room to be about twelve foot by twelve foot long. The wall in front of him held a rack with instruments that held the promise of a whole lot of pain for the person or persons unlucky enough to have them used on him. /I get the distinct impression I'm gonna be gettin' personally acquainted with some of those things. Real up close and personal like./

There was a whip hanging by the handle from a hook. Next to it was what appeared to be a cattle prod. Mal gulped and prayed they'd avoid using that one on him. Not that he _wanted_ them to use any of those things on him, but that one just looked particularly nasty. He remembered hearing stories of them being used on Earth-That-Was to control livestock. His eyes moved onto the next item and he felt his stomach tighten. /What the hell do they use _that_ for?/ It appeared to be a very wide blade with a hook-like tip. His eyes glanced over the other items. They didn't look any less scary.

Feeling the bile rise in his throat, Mal looked away from the rack. Other than a hose just to the left of the rack and a plain metal chair in the corner, the rest of the room, or what he could see of it anyway, was empty. The walls were the same dingy gray as a prison cell. Looking down, he noticed what looked like a drain below his feet. He also noticed the, as of yet unused, set of manacles there.

He shivered as a chill ran up and down his spine. Mal wondered if it was caused by what he'd seen or because it was a might bit chilly in the room. He supposed that could, possibly, be due to the fact that he was currently shirtless and shoeless. At least they'd left his trousers on.

Bored, and not really wanting to think on what they were going to do to him (or what they might be doing to his people) he let himself drift into a light sleep.

Several minutes later, he heard them enter, but kept his eyes closed and head bowed. A bucket of ice-cold water to the face surely made for a rude awakening. Mal's eyes flew open as he gasped. He glared at the _Tah mah duh hwoon dahn_ who'd doused him as menacingly as was possible for someone in his position. The offending purple belly simply smiled at back at him. Not a friendly smile either. The two men behind him wore equally unpleasant smiles.

/This certainly is more than a routine interrogation,/ Mal thought. /And it ain't gonna be pleasant. Not for me, least wise./ "This ain't exactly a normal manor for processing prisoners of a war that's done and over with."

"We know who you are, Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds, 57th Brigade. And you will pay for what you have done."

/Well now. That has an effect on the landscape, don't it?/ Mal stared at the other man in confusion, not rightly sure what he'd done to make the Alliance so damn angry with him specifically. Sure, he was the one that had mostly held the Independent forces together at the valley, but that couldn't be the sole reason the man before him looked ready to kill him in the slowest and most painful way possible. He was positive he'd find out soon enough, and in a most unpleasant manor.

"You know my name. Seems to me it's about time you introduced yourselves properly, wouldn't you say? Seeing as how you folks are so civilized and all."

His answer was a fist to the face that rocked his head back and split his lower lip open.

"Bit rude there don't you think? Thought the almighty Alliance was so supposed to have better manners than us border world brigands."

The man's response was the same. Mal blinked away the stars and glared at the _Hwin dan_. He opened his mouth to make another smart-assed reply, but another fist impacted his face with a brain rattling impact. And it didn't end there. The blows continued to fall for what seemed like forever. The Alliance officers were merciless in their attack. Blow after blow connected with his face, chest, and back.

As the attack finally ended, Mal sagged against his restraints. His full weight pulled on his shoulders. He didn't have the energy to try to stand. Blood trickled from several small cuts on his face and splattered on the floor. His breathing was ragged. His head throbbed. His entire upper body hurt. _Breathing_ hurt. Bruises were already starting to form, but he was fairly sure nothing was broken.

Yet.

Somehow, he mustered the strength to lift his head and speak. "I take it you boys are a might pissed that it took ya's six weeks to take Serenity Valley from us when you figured you'd take it in a day?"

A muscle twitched in the man's face, but Mal plowed on. "'Course, it's only 'cause _The Powers That Be_ backed down 'stead of givin' us our _gorram_ air support. Otherwise we'd still be there kicking the hell outta your purple belly butts."

He knew it was not a wise decision to antagonize the man being in his current position as he was, but Mal had never claimed to be exceptionally bright.

Besides, it was fun. Until he got to the hitting part.

The muscle twitched again. Without a word, and faster than Mal had expected, yet another fist lashed out and connected with his already battered face. This one sent him blissfully into unconsciousness.

* * *

Zoë paced across the limited confines of her cell. There were at least two-dozen people in a cell not designed to hold that many at once. She ignored the glares of her cellmates as they quickly moved their feet to avoid being stepped on.

Zoë took note of their surroundings as she continued to pace. /The walls could do with some paint./ There were several spots where large areas of paint had been chipped away leaving exposed concrete. What paint was left was the ugly, faded gray one would usually associate with a prison cell.

There was an odor to it too. She couldn't rightly tell if it was coming from the cell itself, or from the current occupants who had been packed into it. None of which had bathed properly in nearly a month. Not one of 'em had a clean spot on their entire body. Their cloths were filthy and, for most of them, torn in several places.

Something wasn't right. Mal'd been gone to long. It'd been several hours since he'd been taken. The war was over. There weren't no need to question him that long, especially since any intelligence he did have would be useless anyway. They'd spent two long, grueling weeks after the end of the war just waiting to be picked up. Or to die. Whichever came first. By the time they had been picked up, death had started looking pretty damn appealing.

She was worried about him. He was more than just her sergeant. He was her best friend. Had been since the real fighting had started. It still amused her a bit when she thought on that. They hadn't seemed to have much in common at first. She'd been in the military for two years before the war had officially started. He had volunteered a few weeks after. All young and innocent and cocky like. He lost the innocence far to soon. The cockiness, however, had stuck around.

He'd proven himself to be fiercely loyal, charismatic, brave, and more than just a bit daring, all traits that had helped him move up through the ranks quickly. It also helped that he was a damn fine strategist. His plans didn't always go as they should have, but they nearly always worked out at the end. Even when a plan did go to hell, Mal always had a backup at the ready. He did his damnedest to make sure everyone came back safe, even at his own expense, which was also maybe why the new recruits tended to stick real close to him. And why many a higher-ranking officer had often differed to him.

For five long years she and Mal had fought together, saving each other's lives and helping with the healing when one of them got hurt. Never once, in all that time, did Mal let anyone believe the Independents would not be victorious. After the last lieutenant had fallen and the order to surrender had been given, he'd been their heart. Mal had held them together, kept them (mostly) sane while waiting to be picked up.

"Corporal?"

Pulled from her thoughts, Zoë stopped pacing and looked down into the eyes of a frightened young man she didn't recognize.

"You figure they're gonna let us go home? Or they gonna kill us?"

Sighing, she knelt beside the private. He weren't much more than a boy, really. Barely old enough to be on his own no less getting' shot at and killin'.

"They ain't like to kill us now, Private, what with the war bein' won by them and all. Most likely they'll just keep us here for a bit, just to rattle us some, then send us on our way."

The private considered that for a moment. As Zoë got up to leave, he spoke again. "What about the Sarge? He's been gone an awful long while."

Zoë hesitated. She really didn't want to think on what they might be doing to her friend right about now.

"No use frettin' on what we can't know."

Not exactly the most motivational thing to say, but that was Mal's department. It was on her to cover his back.

And she had failed.

_TBC_

Chinese translation:

Tah mah duh hwoon dahn Mother humping son of a bitch

Hwin dan - Asshole


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 8/3/07

WORD COUNT: 1,502

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This took longer than expected to finish (real life can be _such_ a pain in the ass!!!), but it's finally done. Enjoy! Thanks to my beta, Cyn.

/words/ is someone's thoughts

* * *

/He's really fond of this particular form of rude awakenings./ Mal thought as a spray of frigid water to his face snapped him back to full wakefulness. He opened his eyes slowly to find his vision blurred as water fell into them. He blinked a few times to try to clear it. It helped. Some.

"My name is Major Reginald Prescott Longsworth."

Mal stared blankly at the man in front of him - the same man who had "greeted" him a few hours before. Reginald tapped his foot impatiently. Cleary, he expected the name to mean something to Mal.

Mal kept quiet a minute longer then spoke, "I reckon you think I should recognize your name? Well . . . I don't." He tried to shrug, but the manacles made it impossible. Not to mention he was having a bit of a problem with actually being able to feel his shoulders.

Reginald scowled. "You mean to tell me you have no idea who I am, Sergeant?"

"Uhhh, that's what I just said, isn't it?" He paused, attempted to shrug, again, and added, "Not a clue."

Reginald's expression changed from a scowl to out right fury. He was quiet for a few minutes as he slowly regained his composure. "We'll have to see if we can jog your memory, Sergeant Reynolds."

He hung the hose back on the rack and turned to the rack of torture instruments. He made a show of studying them then, eventually, chose the whip. "This is unlike a regular whip," Reginald began, "see how thick it is?" It is not designed to break the skin. Well, not for a very long while anyway, but it is still very painful. You see, I don't want you to start bleeding yet. That will come much later. For now, I only wish to inflict as much pain as possible upon you in the time that I have."

Mal tried to relax. He surely knew allowing his body to tense up would only make it worse. He also knew why Reginald was telling him these things. Mental torture, the anticipation of pain, was often as bad or worse than the pain itself. So, he took slow, deep, even breaths and willed himself to remain calm. Not an easy task when a crazy, self-righteous, _Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze_, was coming at you with a very fat whip.

Reginald maneuvered himself behind Mal. "I believe twenty lashes will do for now." He said as he began the whipping.

Malcolm winced inwardly as the first lash fell. /This ain't so bad./ Then the second lash connected, and the third, and the fourth. The pain increased exponentially with each lashing - especially when it connected on a spot that had already been hit. By the time he Reginald hit twenty lashes, Mal was breathing heavily, but refused to make any verbal admission of how much it had hurt.

Reginald put the whip back in its place, and then walked back over to Mal. "How is your memory now, Sergeant?"

"My memory is fine." Mal replied. "Trying to skin me don't change the fact that I don't have a _freaking_ clue who you are."

"Skin you, Reynolds? No, we haven't gotten to that . . . yet."

Mal groaned inwardly as Reginald moved back to the torture rack.

"Perhaps you just need a little more persuasion." He removed the cattle prod and walked back over to Mal again. "This may be a bit outdated, but it is very effective. Besides, I have an affinity for old-fashioned things. Especially when they come from Earth-that-was." He paused for a minute as he admired the cattle prod. "This model is called a hotshot. It was a particularly crude device used to control cattle and other livestock by delivering a high-voltage low-current shock to the body, usually the rear-end, of the animal. Their use was banned in 2077 when animal rights activists finally convinced the government that they were inhuman. You see, while they were not deadly to humans or animals with short term usage, they deliver an extremely painful electrical charge. With long term use . . ."

He let the last sentence hang.

Reginald hit a button on the end of the prod and it sparked.

As his torturer approached, Mal mustered all the strength he could and kicked at Reginald. His feet connected solidly with the other man's chest causing him to stumble back and drop the cattle prod. It flew from his hand and skittered to a stop against the wall. Reginald grunted stumbled back a bit, but stayed on his feet.

The other two men in the room, who had remained still and quiet in opposite corners of the room to this point, started towards Mal. /Should have known he wasn't alone,/ Mal chastised himself. He lashed out again catching the man on his left, a tall, dark haired man, in the face with his heel. The man bellowed in rage as he stumbled back, blood dripping from his split lip. The other man, slighter shorter than the first, approached with lightning fast reflexes. He easily deflected Mal's attack and slugged him in the gut. Mal gasped and tried to catch his breath. He focused his gaze on his bare feet and concentrated on forcing his lungs to work properly.

He was just beginning to breathe again when the first man came, seemingly- out of nowhere and punched him just as hard as his buddy had. It took longer to regain his breath this time. Finally, after what seemed like forever, his breathing eased and he raised his head. For all it was worth, he glared at his attackers. Looking back to Reginald, he saw the other man nod to the other two men in the room and they moved alongside Mal again. Each man reached down and grabbed one of Mal's ankles then strapped him into the manacles attached to the ground.

"I really was hoping to avoid having to use those, Sergeant, but you leave me no choice." Without another word, Reginald walked over to Mal and touched his chest with the prod.

He held back the screams as long as he could, but after the third touch of the prod to his skin, Mal couldn't fight it any longer and screamed. Loudly.

The first few times, the prod was applied to his bare chest. Then Reginald worked his way down to Mal's stomach. After a few touches there, Reginald moved the prod lower still and touched the area just above Mal's groin. By that time, Mal was in too much pain to realize, or to really care, that his bowels and bladder had released their contents into his pants. Mal just continued to scream. He didn't stop screaming until several minutes later when Reginald finally turned off the prod.

"Now, are you ready to answer my questions, Sergeant?". Reginald asked as he replaced the prod on the torture rack.

Mal slumped bonelessly against his restraints, groaning. He remained quiet as he tried to regain his composure. After several minutes, his breathing finally evened out. Wincing at the pain flaring up and down his arms and shoulders, he pulled himself back to his feet. Glaring defiantly at the _jung chi duh go-se dway_ in front of him, Mal said nothing. Mal wanted to say something, to come at him with some verbal retort, but he was still gasping and his throat felt raw. Instead, he opened his mouth as if to speak then spit in Reginald's face.

The other two purple bellies reacted quickly and both punched Mal in his stomach. Once again Mal was left gasping for breath. His chin touched his chest again. He was still trying to catch his breath when he felt fingers grab him by the hair and yank his head back.

"You are a stubborn fool, Sergeant. I will break you. It's only a matter of time." He released Mal's hair as he finished speaking.

Reginald motioned to the other two men. The three of them left the room leaving Mal gasping and alone.

* * *

A few hundred feet away in her crowded cell, Zoë was cringed as she heard her sergeant and friend's blood curdling screams. Seething with anger, she began pacing furiously again. Her cellmates, seeing the murderous look in her eyes, wisely decided not to complain again. Besides, they shared her fury, although to a lesser extent. They had all come to like and respect Mal when they had been waiting to die at Serenity Valley. He'd kept them alive and sane while they'd waited to be rescued.

Finally, when the screaming stopped, Zoë's pacing slowed. The others breathed an inward sigh of relief when she eventually stopped altogether and leaned on a wall then slid wordlessly to the floor. The fury still burned in her eyes.

It was obvious to even the most skeptical now that Mal was not just being debriefed. He was being tortured. Together, they waited in the uneasy silence for the screams to begin again.

_TBC_

Translations:  
Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze - Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey.

jung chi duh go se dway - steaming crap pile


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 1/19/2008

Content Warnings: Language, Torture

WORD COUNT: 2741

AUTHORS NOTE: It may be a while before I can get another chapter done as I have a few other projects I'm working on, but this part is a long one!

* * *

Mal's head throbbed dully; his arms were numb from the shoulder down, or up depending on how you looked at it, which was a merciful thing as his wrists had been scrapped raw by the manacles. The room was sweltering hot. Sweat poured freely down his body making his eyes sting and his back burn. There was nothing he could do about his back, but he blinked rapidly to try to clear his eyes. Not having a clock in the room, and with his captors not telling him anything, he didn't know how long Reginald had been playing his little hot/cold game, but it was really getting old. He'd roast Mal out for a spell then drop the temperature until Mal was so freezing cold he was sure he'd never thaw out again.

He wasn't rightly sure which one was worse of the two.

When they cranked up the heat his throat became so parched he could barely breathe or swallow, sweat poured freely over his body, and his skin felt dry and tight. The sweat stung his eyes and back and the burns from the cattle prod.

So, he supposed, the cold was marginally better. At least then he got so numb he couldn't feel anything. 'Course, the downside to that was that couldn't feel _anything_. Then there was the fact that when the heat came back on and the feeling started coming back making it feel like he had needles runnin' through his veins 'stead of blood. Not to mention the sneezing. Damn but did that make his head hurt worse.

So, really, he figured neither was much preferable to the other as they both brought on a whole bunch of hurt.

Unsuccessful in his attempt to keep the sweat out of his eyes, Mal finally gave up and just kept his eyes closed. He let his head drop so that his chin rested on his chest. He tried to sleep, but his current predicament wouldn't allow it. As he hung there, Mal thought of all the ways he'd like to eviscerate that ruttin' _Chiang-BAO HOE-tze duh_ son of a bitch, Reginald. And the _Huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ that were helping him.

Just as Mal had finally started to drift into a restless sleep, the cell door opened with a bang. Mal cursed under his breath as the sound reverberated through his still aching head. He knew pretending to be a sleep would only get him another splash of cold water to the face so he opened his eyes and raised his head.

"Now, Sergeant, have you given a little more thought to what we spoke of earlier?" Reginald asked as he moved in front of his captive.

"You can play your little games to your heart's content, Reggie. Ain't gonna make me know something I don't already know."

"My name, Sergeant, is Reginald. You'd do well to remember that." Reginald's eyes narrowed as he spoke. Clearly, he didn't like the nickname.

Tough.

"What ever you say, Reggie." So, antagonizing the man wasn't really one of Mal's brighter plans, if it could be called that, but it was entertaining as all hell to see the arrogant bastards face turn seven shades of red. Since he wouldn't be getting out of his current predicament anytime soon it seemed, Mal figured he'd take his retribution in whatever way he could.

"You stink, Sergeant." Reginald said, crinkling his nose as he leaned towards Mal.

"Yeah, well, whose fault is that?" Mal retorted.

Reginald raised his hand and signaled to the man behind him then stepped off to the side. Mal didn't have time to react as the frigid water hit him. The _Hwin dan_ had turned the damn hose on him! The freezing water pounded his battered body with unmerciful force. After what seemed like an eternity, the onslaught finally stopped.

Mal shivered as the cold water dripped off him. /Well, that's one way to get the sweat out of my eyes I suppose. Think I prefer the sweat, though./

"How about now, Sergeant? You're memory any better?"

Mal glared at Reginald. "You're n-n-not very b-b-bright, are ya R-R-Reggie? T-T-Told y-y-you I d-d-don't k-k-know y-y-you." He stammered then sneezed.

Reginald's face reddened. There was nothing Mal could do as the angry major drew back his fist and slammed it into Mal's stomach. Before Mal could even register the first hit, Reginald punched him again. ...And again, and again. When he finally stopped after what seemed to be an eternity, Mal was left hanging limp and gasping, eyes closed tight against the pain.

"You look cold, Sergeant. I think we can do something about that."

Mal kept his eyes closed as the major moved around. He'd had a good long look at the objects on the rack already, he surely didn't want to know which one the man was going for now. Although, he had a sinking feeling he knew which one it was.

His suspicion was confirmed when a surge of electricity set every nerve in his body on fire. Pain blossomed in his chest as the hotshot burned the skin at the contact point. Once again, he tried not to scream. Tried to keep his mouth closed, but he couldn't. God, it hurt! After a few seconds, he couldn't hold it any longer. He screamed.

Loudly.

Like before, Reginald touched the prod to a point on Mal's chest for a few seconds that lasted an eternity then gave him a few seconds reprieve.

Teeth clenched, Mal forced his eyes open and glared at the major. He really, really wanted to say something sarcastic about Reggie's parentage, but he was finding it difficult to get his vocal cords to function properly. Well, to function at all, actually. At the moment, he couldn't even groan.

Which just pissed him off more.

"How about now Sergeant?"

Mal didn't have a chance to reply. A fist struck him hard in his left temple causing his vision to blur and the room to spin. Reginald struck like a snake, hitting Mal repeatedly in the head.

"Now, Sergeant, I think I do believe you truly don't recognize me. Pity. It would have made this that much more enjoyable. Do you want to know why I loathe you so?" He hesitated only for a second, not giving Mal a chance to respond. "I was in command of the first unit that was sent in. All those platoons, thwarted by one lowly sergeant and a ragtag bunch of outworlders. You made me look like an incompetent idiot."

Mal struggled to remain conscious as he glared at his torturer. His anger swelled. All of this just because of some _Hwin dan's_ wounded sense of pride. His voice finally deciding to cooperate Mal replied, "Seems to me you do a pretty good job of that your own self there Reggie."

Mal tensed as Reginald's jaw clenched and he balled his fists tightly at his sides. Mal steeled himself for another blow, but it didn't come. He winced as the major turned back towards the torture rack. He let out a heavy sigh of relief when Reginald walked past it, but cringed when he picked up the hose again. /I swear that man is a sadist./

He tried to brace himself for the freezing cold water he knew was coming his way, but there was just no way anyone could prepare them self for that kind of cold. Accepting what was to come, Mal let himself go limp again. He allowed his mind to wander back to less complicated times when all he had to worry on was how to keep Momma from finding out, and whipping his hide, when he'd sneak out at night to drink moonshine with the fellas or go skinny dipping with Sarah Mae Travers.

By the time Reginald finally had one of his goons turn off the water, Mal was sure he'd already turned into a Popsicle. His teeth were chattering so uncontrollably hard, he was sure they'd like to be shattering any minute now. Or at least that he wouldn't have any enamel left on 'em at this rate. He was also shivering badly causing his wrists and ankles to rub painfully against the manacles. Mal was almost positive all the skin had to have been ripped off from this last ...session, if it hadn't already been.

Mal clung desperately to consciousness. He was pretty sure his brain couldn't _actually_ implode, but it sure as hell felt like it was having a good go at it. He managed to raise his head and open his eyes enough to see that one of the other men was putting the hose away. Reginald was still standing in front of him, glaring. Mal returned it with an equally hate-filled look. Much of one as he could muster anyways.

/If it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna kill that sadistic ruttin bastard! And I'm gonna do it slowly./

Reginald continued to stare at Mal. He remained silent for several minutes. He opened his mouth to say something then reconsidered and closed his mouth. Finally, he said, "We'll continue with this later." Without another word, he left the room and Mal was alone. Within minutes, he lost the struggle to remain conscious and slipped slowly into darkness.

* * *

Zoë was bored. Very, very bored. And worried. More worried, really, than bored. For the sake of her cellmates, and their toes, she'd stopped pacing hours ago. After Mal had stopped screaming. Which was part of the reason she was so worried. She figured it had been at least four hours since last she'd heard him. At least when he'd been screaming, much as it sickened and angered her to hear it, at least then she'd know he was alive.

The silence was nerve racking. Much as it made her want to kill the bastards hurtin' Mal, in a way, she really wished he'd scream again.

When he started again, she regrets the wish and _really_ wished she'd not had that particular thought. It gets her back to thinkin' on exactly what the ruttin' sons of bitches might be doing to him. That created all kinds of mental images she really didn't need to be seeing. Before she even really realizes what she's doing, she's on her feet and pacing again. Much to the disappointment of her cellmates, who once again, wisely keep their comments to themselves. Instead, they merely pulled their knees to their chests and tried to keep their toes out of the angry corporal's way.

A low, raspy voice called for her.

"Corporal. I don't feel so good."

Zoë turned and saw the dirty, gaunt face of boy she barely recognized. He was from one of the other units that had been stationed at the valley. The boy had been looking sickly for about a day now. Problem was, no one had come to their cell since those _Wang bao DAHN-- Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze_ had come and taken Mal, so she couldn't even try to ask for help. The boy's name, if she recollected properly, was Billy Jensen and he was just barely nineteen years old.

They'd taken Mal about two days ago, near as she could tell. She really wished they'd bring Mal back. Not just so they'd stop hurtin' him, but 'cause then he could deal with the private. She wasn't so good at the comfortin' and moral raisin' as he was. Kneeling next to the boy, she placed the back of her hand to his forehead. He felt hot. Fighting back the surging anger, she gave her best attempt at a reassuring smile then stood. "I'll try to get you some help. You just try to get some rest."

Although they hadn't seen anyone, she was sure there was a guard close by. Food, if you could call the gray, gritty substance food, was brought once a day, water came three times a day. That, at least, was clear and clean. It was brought on a motorized cart, which meant someone had to be close enough by to operate it. Zoë approached the bars to the cell and wrapped her fingers around the bars.

"Guard." She called out loudly. "I know there's someone out there. We need some help down here."

There was silence for several long minutes before she finally her the sound of boots coming towards the cell. A moment later a guard, weapon drawn, stopped in front of her.

"Step back." He ordered, gun pointed at Zoë's head. "What's all this ruckus about?"

Not wanting to give the guard any reason to fire, Zoë back up with her hands in clear view. She pointed to Billy and said, "That soldier's pretty sick. He needs some doctorin'."

The guard stared at Billy for a minute then pulled out a radio. "Brooks, get a medic down here to cell 6, B block." Without another word, he turned and left.

A few minutes later a medic arrived, along with three heavily armed guards. "Back up. All of you over in that corner." One of the guards said as he pointed his gun to the opposite corner. "Any one of you so much as moves a muscle, I'll put a new hole in you."

Nearly two-dozen people trying to move at once in a very small cell all at once surely made for an uncomfortable situation. To say the least. Ribs were jabbed and toes were stepped on, but no one complained or made any sudden moves. When everyone but Billy had moved, the guards moved in front of them and trained their weapons on the group. The medic kneeled next to Billy and opened his bag. He spoke in whispers so no one but Billy could hear him. After a few minutes he stood and turned towards the group.

Zoë caught the medic's eyes as he looked at the group. The sadness in his eyes told her she wasn't going to like what he said. He seemed to recognize her as the defacto leader and turned his attention to her.

"I'm sorry. I've given him something for the pain and to help him sleep, but he is dying. He has Tolenta. There is nothing more I can do."

"I thought that was curable." Zoë fought the urge to strike out. She knew the guards wouldn't hesitate to shot them all if she tried anything.

The medic shook his head again. "It is, if you catch and treat it early enough. It progresses very quickly if left untreated. I'm sorry. All I can do know is make him comfortable." He turned towards the guards. "Get a gurney down here. We need to get him to the med bay and make him as comfortable as we can."

Zoë believed the medic was truly sorry he couldn't help the boy, so she merely nodded and watched as he turned to the guards. She listened as he talked to them.

"We need to get the rest of them checked," the medic continued as he pointed to the group behind him. "If any of them has it, it may still be treatable."

The three guards stared at Billy for a minute then looked at each other. "You know," one of them said, "I got a better idea." That said, he lifted his gun and shot the sick private. The boy's head snapped back and slammed into the wall as the bullet hit him in the forehead.

All sensibility left her as Zoë howled in rage and threw herself at the guard who'd done the shooting. She tackled him down and sat on his back, before anyone else could even begin to move, she reached around and grabbed a knife from his belt, grabbed a handful of his hair then sliced his throat from ear to ear. The other guards recovered from their shock. One of them swung his rifle, hard, at the corporal's face connecting with her cheek. She crumpled to the ground in a heap, just barely clinging to consciousness. The other guard kicked her hard in the stomach to get her off his fallen comrade. She flipped over and landed on her side with a groan.

She watched through pain-filled eyes as one guard picked up Billy's body as the other guard and the medic picked up the wounded guard. The medic's sympathetic look was the last thing Zoë saw as everything faded to black.

_TBC_

Ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng - frog-humping sonofabitch

Huh choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo - Filthy fornicators of livestock

Hwin dan - Asshole

Wang bao DAHN-- - dirty bastard sons-of--

Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze - The explosive diarrhea of an elephant


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4  
By Mickey**

STORY STATUS: Completed 4/13/2008

WORD COUNT: 2,442

* * *

Mal licked his dry, cracked lips. His throat was also parched making swallowing difficult. He was grateful, in a way, for the dehydration. It meant he wasn't sweating anymore, which meant there was no more sweat to roll down and aggravate his raw back. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd had any food or water, or how much longer it would be before he was given any. Reginald was still playing his hot/cold game. Seeing as how he'd been roasting for a while, he was sure it was only a matter of a few minutes before the temperature would drop again.

Sure enough, some time later, Mal could feel the temperature dropping. At first, it was a relief. The cool air helped to sooth his sore back and the burns. Soon, though, it became so cold he started shivering again, causing his already raw wrists to rub against the metal of his restraints. He was pretty sure there wasn't any skin left on 'em, least ways there wouldn't be by the time Reginald was done with him. His ankles, covered by his pant legs, were fair just a might bit better. His teeth began to chatter so hard, he was certain they'd be breaking anytime now.

After what seemed like an eternity, Reginald and his goons returned. He waited for the temperature to start to get back to normal again, but it remained frigid. He braced himself for what he was sure would be coming next, but the freezing cold water didn't come. After a few minutes he looked up. Reginald was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at him with eyes that held a level of burning hatred and loathing Mal had never seen before. He shivered in spite of himself. It was somewhat frightening to know it was all directed at him, for something that wasn't really his fault.

Well, not entirely anyway.

Reginald continued to stare at Mal silently. The intensity of his glare sent shivers up and down Mal's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Mal refused to look away. No way in hell was he going to let that _BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO_ break him. After several more minutes, Reginald turned and walked towards the rack with his 'toys'.

He stood in front of it for several more minutes. Mal knew he was just screwing with his mind. Making him think about what device he'll choose. Letting him dwell on the intense pain Reginald will use the chosen device to inflict upon him. Mal was sure he knew which one his tormentor would choose.

After several more minutes, Reginald picked something up and turned back around. Sure enough, it was the cattle prod. Mal sighed in resignation. He supposed it was better than the whip. At least the pain from the burns eased after a spell. The pain caused by the lashes from the whipping was persistent.

Reginald remained silent as he approached the focus of his malice. He held the prod up, taping the business end against his open palm several times. The he touched the prod to Mal's chest. Mal flinched slightly in anticipation of pain, but it didn't come. The bastard hadn't turned it on yet! He did it again and again, grinning every time Mal reacted, no matter how slight the reaction.

Mal cursed himself for flinching, for giving Reggie the satisfaction of knowing that his stupid mind games were having an affect on him. He really, _really_ wanted to wipe that ruttin' smile off his face. He just wished Reggie would hurry up and get started for real, just get on with and get it over with. Not that he particularly liked being tortured; he just hated having his mind screwed with more than he hated physical pain.

Without warning, Reginald hit the 'on' button and touched the prod to Mal's chest. Mal reflexively tried to back away, but couldn't move more than an inch or so. Reginald held the prod in place for several seconds before pulling it away. Mal gasped. He glared at his torturer. He opened his mouth to make a smart-ass remark, but it died on his lips and was replaced by a scream as Reginald touched the prod to the same spot on Mal's chest. He repeated the process several more times, touching the same spot each time.

Well now, that's gonna leave a permanent mark, Mal thought as Reginald stopped again and his brain had actually registered that the pain had stopped. He waited for the inevitable touch of the prod again, but it didn't fall. It was a good thing Reggie didn't want to question him 'cause his throat was raw from screaming. He opened his eye again and glared at his captor.

Mal kept himself from flinching as Reggie raised his hand, but no blow fell. Instead, Reggie gestured to one of his men, both of whom had remained behind Mal and out of his site. He took some satisfaction in noticing the tall, dark haired man's face. His spilt lip puffy and he had a dark bruise on his chin. He walked over to the wall and grabbed the hose. Reginald took a few steps back.

What with being tortured and all, Mal had forgotten how cold it was in the room, but now that he wasn't be electrocuted any more, he remembered just how cold it was. And it was about to get colder. While the dark haired man held the hose and aimed it at Mal, the shorter man turned the water on. While the freezing cold water to help to soothe his sore back and the burn from his recent encounter with the cattle prod, that's about the only good to come of it.

The water continued to flow over him for several minutes. The dark haired man took great pleasure in his assigned ask. He grinned as he moved the hose slightly and the water hit Mal's groin.

"You stink, Reynolds," he said as he moved around behind Mal sprayed his backside.

The force of the water directly on his back made him gasp in pain. He angled the hose down and continued to spray until he reached Mal's feet. Then he moved back in front of Mal and laughed as he turned the hose up so the spray hit Mal directly in the face. He wound up with a mouth full of water before he realized what was happening, the force of it causing him to choke. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to do the same with his mouth, but the water kept getting in.

Suddenly, the water was gone. Mal gasped for breath. When his breathing finally returned to normal, he opened his eyes again. The hose had been replaced and, once again, the only one he could see was Reggie. Who still had the cattle prod in his hand.

Reginald stepped forward again. The nasty gleam in his eye told Mal he was enjoying this way too much and would continue to do so until he got bored with it or Mal died. At that point, Mal didn't particularly care why it stopped just so long as it all stopped. Reginald touched the cattle prod to the same spot on his chest yet again.

Mal was surprised that it didn't really hurt. Then again, it's hard to feel anything when you're nerve endings are frozen. He spasmed uncontrollably as Reginald continued to use the prod to electrocute him twice more. Even after Reginald stopped, the spasms continued.

As Mal's spasms finally slowed then stopped, Reginald spoke, "It's your fault I'm stuck here at this detention center, still a Major, instead of being promoted and given command of a starship as I should haven been." He turned and went back to the torture rack, replaced the cattle prod. Then he picked up something else. When he turned, object in hand, Mal cringed. It was the wide blade with the hook-like tip.

Oh, _juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan_. . . .

Reginald walked slowly towards Mal. He stopped when he was less than a foot from his prisoner. He held the blade up, admiring it. Mal tensed, waiting to feel the bite of the blade in to his skin. A knock on the door caused Reginald to lower the blade and curse under his breath. He made a waving motion with his hand and one of the other men opened the door.

A young woman in uniform walked briskly into the room, stopping beside Reginald. She glanced at Mal, but no remark to or about him.

"Sir, new orders just came in over the cortex. An agreement has been reached with the Independents. All prisoners are to be release immediately. You will be contacted at a later time and given the location of your new duty station."

Mal released the breath he'd been holding and sagged against his restraints. It was over. I was finally all over.

Reginald spoke with barely contained anger. "Thank you, Corporal. Dismissed."

The young woman gave a smart solute then turned sharply and left the room.

Mal watched as Reginald stared at the blade, turned it in his hands a few times. For a terrifying moment, he though Reginald was going to use it on him anyway. Thankfully, after staring at it for another minute or so, he replaced it on the rack.

Reginald gestured towards Mal. "Release him. Put him back with the others." That said, he stormed out of the cell.

Each guard released an ankle from the manacles first then opened the ones securing his wrists. They caught him as he crumpled, his legs unable to hold his weight. He hung limply between them. His arms and shoulders were so numb he couldn't feel the guard's rough grasp on them. They each slung one of Mal's arms over their shoulder and dragged him out of the torture room and back the cell where his men were being held. He tried to move his feet as much as possible to avoid dragging them on the ground.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Zoë was still seething. Due to her head still hurting from the rifle butt she'd been hit with a few hours before, she couldn't pace, which just pissed her off more. She hated being so still. She especially hated that they had murdered that boy right before her eyes and she hadn't been able to do a damn thing to stop it.

Mal would have, she knew. He would've realized what they were up to and stopped 'em.

She had no idea what those _go tsao de_ son of-a-bitches were doing to Mal, which just made everything that much worse. He hadn't screamed in a while and she wasn't rightly sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

She reached up and touched her cheek then winced. The medic had patched her up while she was unconscious and she felt around the edges of the bandage. The stitches made the skin on her cheek feel tight.

The low clomping sound of boots on cement caught her attention. It was getting louder. Quickly as her aching head would let her, Zoë got to her feet and walked over to the cell door. She grabbed the bars and tried to look down the hall. After a minute, she saw two guards coming towards the cell with a bare-chested and bare-footed, brown haired man hanging limply between them. She knew who it had to be. She was relieved that he was finally being brought back, but was worried that he wasn't moving. He couldn't be dead. They surely wouldn't bother bringing a dead man back to a prison cell.

Zoë let out a string of expletives that would have even made her own foul-mouthed mother want to wash her mouth out with soap. She heard one of the others whisper, "_Lao TYEN yeh_," as the guards dropped Mal unceremoniously onto the cell floor.

The guards said nothing as they backed out of the cell and locked the door. As soon as they were out, Zoë dropped down to Mal's side. "Son of-a-bitch", she muttered as she saw the bruises and welts on Mal's back. Mercifully, only a few were open wounds and they didn't seem to be deep. There was very little blood on his back. She reached out and touched his shoulder and was shocked. He was ice cold to the touch.

Gently, she rolled him onto his back. Her rage grew exponentially. He had a thin gash by the hairline over his right temple. His left cheek was bruised and his eye was black and blue. The right side of his face seemed to have faired better. Seeing no apparent injuries to his neck, she looked at his chest. He what looked like several small electrical burns on his chest and abdomen. There was one really bad burn on the left side of his chest, about two inches below his shoulder. There didn't seem to be much bruising, but she knew that could be because of how cold he was. She gently felt his ribs and sighed in relief that there was no give in them. Nothing was broken. She quickly did the same to his arms and legs. No breaks there either, as far as she could tell anyway.

Zoë removed her tattered coat and folded it up to use as a pillow. Then she carefully raised Mal's head and positioned the coat under it. "He's freezing," she said as she removed his wet pants and tossed them into the corner then she removed her shirt and draped it over her friend's body. Experience and training had taught her that body heat was the best way to warm him up, so she laid down next to Mal and positioned herself close to him, gasping a little as his cold skin made contact with his.

Moving quickly and saying nothing about the corporal's nakedness, those who still had jackets took them off and put them over Mal and Zoë. Those who didn't have jackets removed their shirts. One of them followed Zoë's suit and folded his jacket like a pillow and gave it to the corporal. She gave him a grateful smile. She prayed that his injuries were minor and that he wouldn't catch pneumonia, if he hadn't already.

Knowing there was nothing more they could do for Mal, Zoë let her eyes shut and allowed herself to drift off into a restless sleep.

_TBC_

BUN tyen-shung duh ee-DWAY-RO Stupid inbred stack of meat

juh jen sh guh kwai luh duh jean jan. . . . this is a happy development. . . .

go tsao de dog humping

Lao TYEN yeh Jesus


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 9/12/2008

Word Count: 2779

* * *

Zoë woke at the sound of Mal's soft moans. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him. She put the back of her hand to his forehead. He had a slight fever, but it didn't seem too high. Coulda been a lot worse seeing as how he felt like a human Popsicle when they brought him back. That thought made her blood boil. What the hell did they do to you? Looking at the bruising on his face, and marks on his back, she was sure she didn't really want to know. Now that his body temperature was up, the bruising was more evident on his back. Even though she couldn't see his chest because of the way he was lying, she was sure the bruising was bad there as well.

She watched him sleep for a few minutes. Something just didn't feel right. She knew Mal well enough to know that he didn't tell them anything. So why had they brought him back so soon and, relatively speaking, in good shape. A lot better shape then she'd been expecting to see him anyways, what with him being gone as long as he was.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Mal groaned as he rolled slightly, the movement pulling at his aching ribs. He rolled again and moaned softly, but didn't open his eyes. Something was wrong. He shouldn't be hurting so bad. Every part of his body ached and he didn't rightly know why. As he slowly came fully awake, he began to remember. "Ruttin' bastard," he said in barely a whisper. The more alert he became, the faster the memories seemed to come back. By the time he was fully awake, he remembered it all. Including why he'd been let go. He'd been relieved when he'd heard that Reginald had been ordered to release them all. As he'd been dragged away though, he'd seen the look on Reginald's face and he had a sinking feeling that, even if the others were released, the bastard wasn't done with him yet. Mal pushed the unwanted thought aside.

"Sarge?"

At the sound of the frightened young voice, Mal finally opened his eyes.

"Hi." He didn't recognize the young woman sitting a few feet from him. She was staring at him so intently that it made him uncomfortable. He looked for her rank insignia, but there wasn't much left of her uniform.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"I'm fine." It wasn't really a lie. He shuddered as he remembered the tool Reginald had been about to use on him just before the corporal came into the cell. A sudden tickle in his throat caused him to start coughing. That motion sent sharp pains through his back and chest, causing him to grimace and moan, which sent him into another coughing fit. He clutched his sore ribs and tucked his chin to his chest, trying to control the pain. Finally, the coughing stopped and the pain eased to a dull throb.

Mal looked up to see nearly two-dozen or so men and women staring at him, concern etched on their faces. Suddenly, he remembered the woman who had asked if he was okay. Her name was Leah. She was a new recruit, a private just barely out of basic training and only nineteen years old. She'd just been assigned to Mal's unit a few weeks before they'd lost Serenity Valley.

"I'm fine, Private."

She smiled weakly and nodded, but Mal could tell she was not fully convinced.

He attempted to sit up then changed his mind and groaned as he realized just how much he hurt. Okay. Think I'll just lay here a little longer. The movement had caused the jacket over his shoulders to slide down. Mal looked down.

"Uh, Zoë, why am I naked?" He paused and turned to look at her. She was lying, very closely, behind him with her head propped up on her hand and a very concerned look on her face. "Why are you naked?" He vaguely remembered being dragged back to the cell and dropped into it, but didn't remember getting undressed. He certainly didn't remember Zoë getting naked. Although, he did have a vague recollection of being wet and cold. "Did we do something I don't remember?" he teased.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Nothin' to be ashamed of, Sergeant." Zoë smiled; glad to see he still had his sense of humor. Then she got serious again. She looked up at the others and nodded towards the corner where the sergeant's cloths had been put. One of the men pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and retrieved the now dry articles.

Giving them some privacy, the others turned their backs. Zoë stood and dressed herself quickly then helped Mal stand. He swayed a little and she put out a hand to help steady him. He was pale and seemed unsteady on his feet. As he started to sway, Mal put his hand on her shoulder. They had known each other for a long time and had been through a lot together. This wasnt the first time they'd seen each other undressed. Zoë was a little concerned about how wobbly he seemed to be, but said nothing as she helped him get dressed.

"Sorry," she said as he buttoned his shirt, "I don't know where your socks and shoes are. You weren't wearing them when they brought you back." He looked he was about to be sick, so she helped him walk the few steps to the back of the cell then helped him ease himself down into a sitting position. Mal leaned his head against the wall and took a few slow breaths before speaking.

"Don't rightly know where they are myself. Bastards took 'em off while I was still unconscious." He coughed a few times then sucked in his breath at the pain it caused.

Zoë knelt down beside him. She wished there was something she could do for him, but they had no supplies and she had a feeling calling for the guards would just bring more trouble. Again, as she looked at his bruised face and chest, she couldn't help but wonder what they had done to him. Now that he was awake and sitting up, she could see more burns on his chest. Only the one under his left shoulder was bad enough to have blistered, but the others looked painful as well.

Hearing movement behind her, Zoë looked up. One of the men was standing with his arm outstretched holding a tattered shirt. "He still looks a might chilly."

Zoë accepted it gratefully. The man nodded and smiled then walked the few steps to the other side of the cell and sat down. As she watched him, she realized that both she and Mal knew him. He had been in a different unit, but they had worked together on several joint missions during the course of the war. He was an average sized man with thinning hair, and bright hazel eyes. Despite all he'd seen and done in the war, and he had plenty of scars to account for them, he always reminded her of an overgrown child.

Zoë looked back to Mal and noticed that he did seem to shiver a bit now and then. She realized that he had fallen asleep again. Not wanting to wake him, she draped the shirt over him and sat beside her friend.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

The sound of rattling metal startled Mal and he sat up a little to quickly. Zoë had apparently fallen asleep and had been leaning on his shoulder because she sat up with a jerk as well. He winced at the pain in his chest and back caused by the sudden movement. The he gritted his teeth as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. The shirt slipped down to his lap. He shivered at the loss of what little warmth the battered shirt had offered.

Four heavily armed guards were standing outside of the cell. One of the guards was opening the door. The other three had their guns trained on the prisoners. Once the door was unlocked, the guard stepped back and aimed his weapon at Mal.

Mal tensed as Reginald came into the room. He glanced at Zoë and realized she had been watching him. She must have picked up on his reaction to the major's entry into the cell. He was sure that must have put two and two together and realized that Reginald was the one who had tortured him. She looked like a snake, coiled and ready to attack. He threw her a 'not now' look and she relaxed a little.

"I am Major Reginald Prescott Longsworth, commander of this facility. It appears that this is your lucky day," he began as he looked around the cell in disgust. "I have been ordered to release you all." He held up a hand to forestall any outbursts, but none came. Mal resisted the urge to shudder when Reginald turned and fixed him with a piercing glare. "My medic will examine you all to make sure you don't have anything that is contagious. When he's done, you will all be sent to an Alliance base on Persephone where you will all be briefed on the conditions of your release. You will then be transported to the location of your choice." An evil grin spread across Reginald's face as he added, "all but you, Sergeant Reynolds. You will be my . . . guest for a long, long time."

A man who was obviously a medic entered the cell followed by a fifth guard. The medic took a quick glance around the cell then went straight towards Mal and knelt beside him. The guard stopped in the middle of the cramped area.

Reginald stopped the medic with an outstretched hand. "Leave him for now. Check the others first."

Mal saw the glare the medic gave Reginald, but the man said nothing as he walked over to a man Mal recognized as one of three corporals who had joined his unit when their own had been wiped out about a week before the in the valley battle had ended. The medic checked each soldier as thoroughly as he could in the tight quarters. When he finished checking them all, he turned towards Zoë.

She looked about to wave him off, so Mal said, "Let him do his job, Corporal."

Zoë nodded and remained quiet as the medic checked her over. Seemingly satisfied with her overall health, he gave her a small smile and turned towards the major.

Mal watched and listened as he turned to Reginald.

"Most of them are in fairly good shape considering what they've been through in the past few weeks. However, these people," he said as he pointed to two women and four of the men, "will need to be taken to the med lab for a better exam."

Reginald nodded towards two of the guards. The two men pulled out the ones the medic had pointed to and moved them out of the cell. Two more armed guards quickly replaced them. "The rest of you will line up against that wall." Reginald pointed to one of the walls. Everyone but Zoë and Mal stood and formed a single line against the wall as instructed. They threw worried glances at Mal, but went quietly as they were lead from the cell.

"That includes you," Reginald said when he realized Zoë hadn't move.

Zoë didn't move, but Mal could see her body tense up.

"I ain't going nowhere without the sergeant," she replied with determination.

"I'll be fine, Zoë, just go." He was sure Zoë could hear the pleading tone he tried not to let come through into his voice. When Reginald took a step towards him, he was sure Zoë saw him flinch. Knowing her the way he did, knowing she was ready to strike out at Reginald, Mal reached out and grabbed her arm. "Don't," he said firmly, locking eyes with her.

Zoë relaxed slightly and Mal released her arm.

Reginald glared at her for several minutes then an eerie smile crossed his face. "Fine. If you insist, you may remain with your sergeant." Then he turned to the medic and nodded towards Mal.

Mal sat quietly as the medic examined him. He didn't particularly care for having a purple belly putting his hands all over him again, but the medic was gentle and seemed to be trying not to cause him any pain. Mal had noted how kind the medic had been to his people as well. He appeared to be around Mal's age with dark brown, almost black hair and dark blue eyes. There was something about those eyes that made Mal believe this man wasn't like the others. He relaxed some, but not much. While he was willing to trust the medic, if only a bit, he didn't trust the guards with itchy trigger fingers at all.

The cold touch of the stethoscope's medal made him flinch. The medic checked his heartbeat and breathing. That done, he put the stethoscope back in his bag and began to gently move his hands over Mal's arms. He frowned a few times, but said nothing as he made his way from Mal's shoulder to his abdomen. Next he checked Mal's legs. Mal assumed he was satisfied with what he found, or didn't find, there. Last, he checked Mal's feet. The frown came back.

"He doesn't have any broken bones, which is a good thing. He does have some pretty nasty burns on his chest and abdomen. There doesn't appear to be any permanent tissue damage, but they still need to be treated to make sure they don't get infected and to minimize scaring. His ribs are badly bruised and there is some bruising on his back. I don't think any of the lashes on his back will need stitches, but they'll need to be cleaned and disinfected too. He's also got some congestion in his chest. He needs to be moved to the med bay."

"No. He stays here until I'm ready to move him."

The medic looked angry. He glared at Reginald and said, "With all do respect, sir, he needs medical assistance now. His injuries may not be serious at the moment, but that can change quickly if he doesn't get proper care. You may be the commander of this facility, but as the head medic, I have the final say in medical matters."

Mal kept his pleasure at the situation to himself. As the conversation went on, he found himself increasingly more pleased. This fella ain't so bad. Matter of fact, he found himself rather liking the medic. After several minutes of arguing and staring each other down, Reginald relented.

He motioned to a guard who entered the cell. "Take him to the medical bay."

The guard grabbed Mal and roughly hauled him to his feet. Mal yelped as pain shot up and down his chest and back. Zoë jumped to her feet, but Mal shot her a warning look. 'Take it easy,' was the unspoken order, 'don't do anything stupid. We'll get out of this together. Just like always.'

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Zoë watched with barely controlled anger as the guard, despite the protests of the medic, manhandled Mal out of the cell. She considered disobeying his unspoken order and launching herself at the _Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze, Ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng_, who'd hurt the Sarge. He was more than just her sergeant, he was one of the few people she had ever considered a friend. He was also the only person in the 'verse that she trusted implicitly.

Like before, she felt useless and that angered her further. She hated knowing that he was hurt and not being able to help him. While she got the impression from his actions with the sick private and his treatment of Mal and the other prisoners, she wasn't willing to trust him completely yet. Fists balled her at her sides, she willed herself to calm down.

Reginald glared at her, and she returned it, as he approached her. "You should have left with the others. Not going is a decision you will soon come to regret. I guarantee it."

Again, Zoë considered striking the arrogant bastard, but refrained. She merely glared at him until he finally turned and left in a huff. Once he was going she let out a long sigh and slumped against the wall, allowing her self to slide down it and sit on the cold, hard floor. Once again, there was nothing she could do but wait.

_TBC_

Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze - Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey.

Ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng - frog-humping sonofabitch


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6  
By Mickey**

Status: Completed 9/13/2008

Word Count: 2591

* * *

"_Kao!_" Mal spat as he was thrown against the medical bed. He grabbed the edge to keep himself from falling to the floor, gasping as his injured ribs hit the frame. A muttered curse caused the guard, who had turned to leave, to turn back towards Mal. The guard sneered and moved to strike Mal with his weapon, but was stopped by the medic.

"You will _never_ strike a patient in my med lab, _dong ma_?" The medic said, keeping a firm grasp on the guard's wrist.

The guard didn't answer; he merely glared at the medic for a few seconds then yanked himself free and stormed out of the med lab. To Mal, it had looked as if the guard had been considering hitting the doc.

"My name is Andy," the medic said as he approached Mal and helped him onto the bed.

"Mal." He accepted the medics outstretched hand and shook it briefly.

"Nice to meet you. Now, I need you to lay back and relax. I have to run a few scans to make sure there's no internal damage."

Mal did as he was told and remained still and quiet as the medic ran his scans. He ran several small hand-held devices over the length of Mal's body then put him under a large full body scanner. He also took a few blood samples as well as doing a bit more poking and prying. He did his best not to cry out when the medic hit a few of the more sensitive spots along his ribcage. When he was done with that, he hooked up an IV.

"You're pretty dehydrated. This will help with that," he began as he inserted the needle. "You're also malnourished." The medic frowned. "When was the last time you had any kind of real food?"

Mal stared at the man blankly. /Was that a trick question?/ He wondered. /Forget "real food", I can't remember the last time I ate, period./

"Yeah, that's what I thought." The medic inserted another IV. At the questioning look on Mal's face, he said, "You have some minor congestion in your chest, as I said earlier. This is for the antibiotics, anti-inflammatory, and pain meds." Seeming to sense that Mal was about to protest, he added, "I know you're in pain, Mal. Not just from your ribs either. That burn under your shoulder is pretty bad. The others are relatively minor, but I'm sure they hurt too." The second IV in, he picked up a clipboard and marked a few things on it then hung it from the foot of the bed.

After putting salve on his burns and bandaging them, the medic called a nurse over to them. "Help Sergeant Reynolds sit up," he instructed the woman. She nodded and moved beside Mal. Putting one hand behind his back and the other on his shoulder, she helped him into a sitting position. "Put some of this on the open wounds on his back," the medic instructed.

The position was extremely uncomfortable, but Mal did his best not to move. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt much at all when the nurse touched the open lashes on his back. When she finished, she handed the salve back to the medic who put it onto a nearby tray. He then went about binding Mal's ribs while the nurse supported him. He couldn't hold back the wince that escaped him as the medic pulled the binding tight.

"This will help reduce the pain when you cough and breathe or move around by restricting your movement," he explained, "as well as protect the open wounds on your back. Keeping them covered will help prevent infection. My nurse," he said, pointing to a woman sitting at a desk at the far end of the med lab, "will be here all night if you need anything. I'm going to see about getting you some food."

As the medic turned to leave, Mal grabbed his forearm. "And Zoë," he said firmly.

"Zoë?" The medic looked puzzled then realized whom Mal must have been talking about. "You mean your angry looking female friend who refused to leave with the others?"

"Yeah," Mal replied with a smile that was part affection and gratitude and part annoyance. "That'd be her. Might bit stubborn that one is." There was also a touch of pride in his voice.

"She's a good friend. Yes, I'll see about getting her some food as well. Rest now."

"Zoë first." Mal said, his voice was beginning to slur and his eyes were drooping. "Take care of her."

"Okay, Zoë first."

Realizing that the doc must have slipped some sleeping meds into the IV along with the pain meds and antibiotics. Assured that the doc would take care of Zoë, Mal decided not to fight it. He hadn't had any proper sleep in almost as long as he'd been without food and he was very tired. He allowed the drugs to pull him into a dream-filled sleep.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Zoë was pacing again. It was a lot easier this time around, being alone and all. While she was willing to trust the medic a bit, she was still concerned about the sergeant. Although it was nearly impossible to tell the passage of time in the dimly lit cell, she was sure it had been several hours at least since Mal had been taken away again. She stopped and looked at the cell door when she heard boots and voices approaching.

The medic and a young guard came up to the cell door. The guard was giving the medic a skeptical look as he pulled out the key. The guard turned his attention to Zoë. "Back up. Stand against the wall and keep your hands where I can see them," he instructed.

"Are you sure about this, doc?" The guard asked as he opened the door, being sure to keep an eye on Zoë. "She's a rough one. I heard how she killed Sergeant Hawthorn when you were down here a few days ago trying to help that sick prisoner. I really should stay in here with you."

The medic walked into the cell and stopped in the middle. "I am armed and quite capable of taking care of myself, corporal. I said leave us. Return to your desk, I'll call you when I'm through here."

The guard gave the medic one last uncertain look than locked the cell and walked away.

When the medic turned back towards her, Zoë noticed that the medic was carrying a covered tray. He smiled at her, obviously trying to put her at ease.

"Your friend thought you might like something to eat," he said as he removed the cover from the tray.

Zoë's jaw nearly dropped as she stared at the food. She hadn't seen that much food in a long while. Especially real food. Since they had been picked up from the Valley, they hadn't been fed much. When they were fed, it was usually just protein bars and water. Not being the easily trusting type, she covered her surprise well.

"What friend?" she asked, though she had an idea who it might have been.

"I think you know. He's concerned about you." He walked closer to Zoë, stopping only a foot from her. He held out the tray. "It's not much really, some meatloaf, potatoes, green beans, some bread, and a sliced apple." Balancing the tray on one hand, the medic reached into his pocket, pulled out a bottle and set it on the tray. "I'm sure you'd prefer something with a little kick to it, but I think milk would do you more good right now."

"How is he? He was wet and ice cold when they brought him back. Had him away from us for several days at least, I'm guessing."

A dark look passed over the medics face then was gone as quickly as it had come. "As I'm sure you heard me tell the major, he does some congestion in his chest. I'll keep an eye on it to make sure he doesn't develop pneumonia. I'm also sure you are aware of his other injuries. They are, thankfully relatively minor. I've got him on antibiotics to make sure the one bad burn doesn't become infected." He paused then motioned the tray towards her. "Eat."

With some hesitation, she accepted the tray. Zoë slid down the wall into a sitting position and set the tray on her lap. "Thanks," she muttered around a mouth full of bread. She kept a wary eye on the medic as she ate. So far, he seemed to genuinely care about all people, but she would never be able to bring herself to ever fully trust an Alliance man.

Zoë was a little disconcerted with the way the medic watched her as she ate, but said nothing. As she finished, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle. He tossed it to her and she put down the milk to catch it.

"They're vitamins. You are almost as malnourished as your friend. Take one a day." She looked at the bottle then put them in her pocket.

"I'll try to get you some more food later," he said as she finished eating and he took the tray from her. She handed him the empty milk bottle. He accepted it then turned and called for the guard. The guard arrived after a minute and unlocked the door.

"Hey, doc," Zoë called out to the medic as he left the cell. "Thanks. I'm grateful."

The medic turned and smile then nodded once and left.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Early the next morning Mal woke to find the medic standing by his bed checking one of the IVs. "Hey, doc. How's Zoë?"

"Call me Andy, and she's fine."

Mal looked at him skeptically. "I'm getting the impression we have to different ideas on what "fine" is."

"She is malnourished, as I'm sure you know, but she has no injuries other than a few minor bruises. I brought her some food last night and I'll bring her more later on this morning if I can, and I slipped her a bottle of vitamins, which should help. I'm afraid there isn't much more I can do for her. I'm lucky the major is allowing me to treat you here in the med lab. I did bring you some food last night, but by the time I returned you were sleeping peacefully and I didn't want to disturb you."

Mal nodded. He sat quietly for a few minutes thinking about what the doctor said, and the situation that he and Zoë now found themselves in. The medic broke the silence first.

"So," Andy asked him, "what's the story with you and the major? I know he doesn't feel any love loss for you Browncoats, but he's never treated anyone so badly before. He usually picks one "toy" and sticks with that. It's obvious that he tortured you. From the burn marks, I'd say he used the cattle prod. That's his favorite. Your back is proof that he brought out the whip for a wile. Then there's the alternating between turning the "interrogation room"", he said making quote marks in the air with his fingers, "excessively hot and freezing cold." At Mal's surprised look, he added, "Yeah, I've heard about that being done before and that you were pretty wet and cold when you were brought back to the cell with the other prisoners. It certainly explains the congestion and, in part, the dehydration."

Much as he liked the medic, he still didn't trust him completely. Deciding that he didn't have anything to lose anyway, Mal said, "Seems the Major has a personal vendetta against me. Apparently he was in charge at Serenity Valley, so he's not very happy with me that his people got their asses kicked. The _yu bun duh tah mah duh hwoon dahn_ is _boo-tai jung-tzahng-duh_. Blames me for him being a lousy commander and all." Mal winced as he shifted his position a bit. "I suppose he was using the war to try and boost his career and all and it ain't panning out that way. Seems the Alliance brass are not particularly happy with his performance there. I reckon being held off by a lowly sergeant and a handful of half starved and sleep deprived troops with very little in the way of weapons and ammo isn't what they call a good command quality. That about sums it up. Near as I can tell, anyways."

"Really." The medic said.

Defensively, Mal said, "Hey, doc, you asked."

The medic looked around the med lab and Mal got the impression he was making sure they were alone. "It's Andy, and I believe you Sergeant. I have seen first hand what a petty man the major can be."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Tell me, Doc . . . Andy, you seem like an okay kinda guy, what are you doing working for the Alliance? Why would you support a government that suppresses and murders anyone who doesn't bend to their will?"

As Andy glared at Mal, he new he'd struck a nerve with the doctor. /Well, think I pissed him off./

Andy sighed heavily. "Things aren't always as they appear, Sergeant. I believe in a unified government. I believe the benefits of one are endless. I don't believe in a lot of the Alliance's methods, but not everyone is like the major. I've seen how many of the border planets are. No proper medical care, lawless. Many don't have any kind of school system. The core planets have the best medical facilities; our crime rates are nearly nonexistent. Every child gets a good education. I have three children. I want them to grow up in a world that is safe."

"Well, that's a real pretty fantasy there, Andy, but at what cost? How many people have to give up their freedom, their way of life? How many have to die for you and the Alliance to have your Utopia?"

The two sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, until Reginald came barging into the med lab. Mal tensed as the major stormed over to his bed. Forcing himself to relax and to appear nonchalant, he asked, "Hey, Reggie, how's it going? Miss me already did ya?"

Reginald glared at him briefly then turned his attention to the medic. "Well?"

"Well, what, Major? He's hardly been here for twelve hours. How much progress do you expect?"

Ignoring the sarcastic tone of the medic's question, Reginald said, "I expect you to earn your pay, Doctor."

"I am well aware of what my job is, Major, and _I_ do my job well."

Reginald's face turned a deep red. He was about to say something when a lieutenant came bursting into the med lab. "Sir. General Stark sent a wave, sir. He wants to speak to you immediately."

The man had the good sense to leave immediately after delivering his message. Reginald stood fuming for a few seconds then left.

The tension drained from Mal, and Andy as they watched him leave.

"I'd hate to be him right now," Andy remarked with a smile. "I'm going to see about getting you and your friend some food." He gave Mal a light tap on the shoulder then turned to leave.

"Hey, Andy," Mal called out to the medic as he reached the door. When he turned around, Mal continued. "You're not so bad for a purple belly."

Andy laughed. "Yeah? Well, you're not so bad yourself."

_TBC_

Kao! Fuck!

dong ma understand

yu bun duh stupid

tah mah duh hwoon dahn Mother humping son of a bitch

boo-tai jung-tzahng-duh not entirely sane


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7  
By Mickey**

Completed: 2/23/2009

Word Count: 1760

Author's Notes: A big thanks to all who have read and reviewed this fic!

* * *

Mal groaned as he struggled to sit up further, his bruised ribs protesting the movement. It had been just over four days since the medic, Andy, had brought him to the infirmary and patched him up. His ribs were still very tender, but the pain from his burns had pretty much gone away. Even his back felt much better.

Absently, Mal rubbed at the back of his hand. Since he was feeling better, able to sit up, if uncomfortably, was no longer dehydrated and the infection was gone, Andy had removed the IV's. He fretted about how Zoë was doing more so than about his own health. Andy had assured him that she was fine, but he wouldn't really believe it until he saw her. It had been several hours since he'd seen the other man and Mal hoped he hadn't gotten caught helping Zoë. He'd heard that the guards had been ordered to keep his friend on bread and water. Anyone caught trying to give her anything else was to be severely punished. This angered Mal, he knew Reggie was only doing it as another way to punish him.

During the time he'd been in the infirmary, he kept waiting for Reggie to come in and gloat over not releasing him. Kept waiting for the sanctimonious bastard to come in and start spouting more crap about the gloriousness of the Alliance and other such crap. Every time the bastard or one of his lackeys entered the room, Mal tensed and waiting to be dragged back to the "interrogation" room. Each time Reggie left the infirmary, he found himself breathing a small sigh of relief. Sometimes he wondered if Reggie did it just to get Mal going. He wondered if it was just another way of messing with his mind and trying to wear down his defenses. He certainly wouldn't put it past the bastard.

One of the nurses came over readjusted Mal's pillows. While not being as openly friendly as Andy, she wasn't hostile towards him either. She gave him a small smile as she checked his pulse and heart rate. That done she turned and left, returning a minute later with a glass of water and a small cup with a pill.

"Take that," she said. "Make sure you drink the whole glass of water." It was the same thing she said every time she brought him his pain medication.

When she didn't immediately turn and leave, Mal knew she meant for him to do it right then and there. Picking up the glass and pill cup, he popped the pill into his mouth and downed the water in one long swallow.

There was an odd look in her eyes as she gave him a small, sad smile then turned and left without another word. He wondered what could be wrong. She usually at least made pleasant small talk with him when she made her rounds. Today, however, she seemed tense and distant.

A commotion in the hall caught his attention and pulled him from his thoughts. He heard angry voices. A few seconds later, he could make out what was being said and knew who was involved in the argument. It was no surprise to him when an angry Andy came storming into the infirmary, a red-face Reggie right behind him.

"I don't give a good gorram what you want, Major, he is not ready to be moved yet!"

"And I don't care what _you_ say, Sergeant," Reggie began, emphasizing the other man's rank over his field, "I have my orders and you now have yours. I want him ready to go in thirty minutes."

"Your orders, sir," Andy said, the word "sir" coming out more as a vile epithet than respectful, "were to release _all_ of the prisoners. That includes the sergeant." Andy had turned and was standing barely three inches from his commanding officers face. Mal knew the man was treading on thin ice and was sure he knew it as well.

"Stand down, Sergeant! Do as you were ordered or I guarantee you you will be joining your new friend in chains and I will make good on my promise!"

For a split second, Mal was sure Andy was going to argue back. Instead, he seemed to deflate. The anger remained, but the fight left him. He stood erect and snapped off a sharp salute as he spat, "Yes, sir."

Still angry, but obviously satisfied the medic would obey his orders, Reggie returned the salute then turned and left the infirmary.

Mal watched him leave then turned towards Andy. "What was that fuss about?"

Andy ignored him and Mal was sure the medic was making a conscious effort not to look at him as he snatched the chart from the end of his bed. He muttered unintelligibly as he read it. Hanging it back on its hook, the medic turned and began opening and slamming doors. Mal wondered if he was actually searching for something, or just trying to work off some of his obvious frustration.

Trying again to get an answer, Mal repeated his question. The slamming stopped and Andy sighed heavily. After a minute, he finally answered. Mal noted how the medic refused to look at him as he did so.

"The Major has received orders to his new duty station. It's a mining colony called Tartarus, controlled by the Alliance Army and manned by some of the Alliance's most dangerous and reviled prisoners. I've also been ordered there to replace the existing medic. The Major has ordered me to prepare you to be moved. He's taking you and your friend with him. I don't know if the Alliance brass is aware of that fact and I doubt they'll really care even if anyone does tells them." The medic snorted then added, "Which I seriously doubt they will."

Mal cringed. He'd heard of the prison-mining colony the medic was speaking about. Only the worst of what the Alliance considered "war criminals" and the most dangerous prisoners from Alliance prisons on various worlds were sent there. Conditions at the colony were horrific. The planet was nearly unlivable. The attempts to terra-form the planet had failed leaving the much of the planet's surface a scorching hot desert. It had very little natural water. The only good thing that had come of it was the creation of a mineral the Alliance found made an excellent fuel source, especially for the Alliance military ships and vehicles. Mining the mineral was extremely difficult and hazardous, which was why only convicts and even then only the worst of them, where used to mine it. More than three-quarters of the prisoners died in their first four months. None lasted more than a year. Just the thought of him and Zoë being sent there scared the hell out of him. More so than anything he'd seen or done during the war.

"You have to help us," Mal pleaded, hating how much it sounded like a whine.

"I can't," came the medic's tight reply.

"Can't or _won't_?" Mal countered.

"I've done all I can. I can't help you anymore," the medic snapped then added, "Don't ask me again. I _can't_ help you." There was an almost pleading look in the medic's eyes that stopped Mal from pushing the issue further. It was clear that this was tearing the other man up inside.

Changing the subject he asked, "How's Zoë?"

Andy took a deep breath, exhaled then answered, "She's fine. A little thin yet and very anxious to see you."

"Does she know?"

"I'm sure the Major has made it a point to tell her." He paused then added, "If he hasn't, it won't be long before he does."

Mal shuddered involuntarily. Just the thought of Zoë in a place like that made him angry and frightened him. As far as he knew, there were no women on the colony other than the Alliance soldiers. And they were heavily armed.

Trying not to think about what was coming, Mal watched as them medic prepared to leave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Zoë paced around the small cell. She couldn't believe what she'd just been told. That bastard couldn't really be taking them _there_. She'd heard of Tartarus on several occassions. It was a hell hold of a world, a place of suffering and torture. No one was ever released from there, no one ever escaped. Except in a body bag. Scared as she was, she'd refused to let her fear show as the callous bastard had gleefully told her that he was taking them there. While he'd obviously been less than thrilled that he'd been ordered there, he'd taken great pleasure in rubbing it in to Zoë that she and Mal would be going along with him.

She's been pleased when the medic, Andy, had visited earlier and told her how well the sarge was healing. Now, it made her even more glad. He would need his strength to deal with what lie ahead of them. It concerned her though, that she had not been allowed to see her friend and that he had not yet been returned to the cell. What if the medic was lying to her? What if the major was torturing him again. In a weakened state such as he'd been in a few days ago, she knew the sergeant would not last long on that planet.

The speed of her pacing increased. She played out several scenarios in her head, trying to come up with a plan to rescue her friend and escape. All ended with being recaptured or killed. She wondered if dying while trying to escape there current confines wouldn't be preferable to going to that God forsaken place. Briefly, she toyed with the idea taking the easy way out. Of waiting until she and the sergeant were reunited then taking their own lives. Just as quickly as the thought came, she pushed it aside. The sarge would never even consider it and would be pissed as all hell if she even hinted at it. Besides, it just wasn't her way. When she went, it would be on her feet with a gun in her hand and defiance on her face.

Knowing she would likely not have real food again in the near future, Zoë went back to the corner where she'd hidden the food the medic had brought her just before the major had arrived. Uncovering the plate, she began to eat and tried to focus her thoughts on anything but the hell that awaited her and her friend.

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**  
** By Mickey**

Completed: 9/06/2010

Word Count: 1031

Authors Note: Thanks to Annie for the beta! Next part will be up within the next few days. Sorry it has taken so long between updates!

* * *

Mal smiled as he saw Zoe coming down the hall. He was happy to see that, other than being a bit on the thin side, she seemed well enough. She gave him a half smile in return. Her face suddenly darkened and he didn't need to turn around to know Reggie had come up behind him. Gasping, eyes wide in shock and pain, Mal sank to his knees at a sudden shooting pain in his back. His eyes stayed focused on Zo's, saw the anger burning there, and willed her to keep her cool while he mentally cursed the _go tsao de Hwin dan_ behind him.

"Keep moving," Reggie growled.

Resisting the urge to make a wise crack, Mal bit back a moan as he struggled to his feet. Not an easy feat even if he was healthy seeing as how they'd handcuffed his hands behind his back. His other injuries were pretty well healed but his ribs were still mighty sore. Once standing, he moved to Zoe's side. Suddenly, Zoe caught sight of someone or something Mal couldn't see and anger flashed in her eyes again. Curious as the intensity of her anger seemed stronger than when Reggie had come up on him, he asked, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, still glaring menacingly over his shoulder.

Somehow, he just wasn't buying that. "They been treatin' you alright?"

Zoe nodded and Mal watched as Reggie moved in front of them and flinched at the sight of the prod swinging in his hand.

Without stopping or looking back, Reggie barked, "Let's move. We don't have all day."

As Mal and Zoe started moving to follow behind him with the medic, someone jabbed the barrel of a weapon into Mal's back and ordered, "Move it."

"I thought that's what we were doin'," Mal snapped.

The only response was a hard object, the butt of a rifle Mal suspected, being slammed into his back. Stumbling to his knees, he glanced over his shoulder and got a glimpse of the stupid son of a whore that had angered Zoe so. Biting his tongue, and with Zoe's help, he got to his feet.

"Seriously," he whispered to Zoe, continuing his earlier questioning, "you okay? They hurt you any?"

"I'm fine thanks to your medic friend," she replied and with a slight nod of her head, she indicated Andy. "He brought me food and clean water and let me know how you were doing."

"And the others?"

Zoe visibly stiffened and her face went blank, but said nothing. That set warning bells off in Mal's head more than anything else. "Zoe."

Voice low, a pain in it that immediately caught his attention, Zo told Mal about the young corporal that the sergeant behind them had murdered. Vaguely, Mal remembered the boy. He'd joined up with them towards the end of the battle, the lone survivor of his unit. Boy had been damn scrappy and smart. Clenching his teeth, hands curled into tight fists at his sides, he resisted the urge to lash out at the purple belly behind them as Zoe finished up.

Hesitating for a moment, Zoe replied, "Far as I know, the others have been released and sent home."

Another jab to his back let Mal know they'd slowed down too much for the sergeant's liking and he picked up his pace a bit.

Sensing there was something bothering his friend, he stated, "There's something you aren't telling me." After several moments, Zoe was still silent. Impatiently, Mal demanded, "What are you not telling me?"

Clearly, Zoe did not want to answer that particular question. With a heavy sigh, she seemed to realize Mal wasn't going to let the matter drop. "Billy Jensen's dead." At Mal's blank look, she clarified. "The lone survivor of the last platoon that got dropped off. Skinny kid from that little outer rim planet ain't hardly no one's heard of."

Recognition dawned on him and Mal hissed, "Damn. How?"

"Had Tolenta. Medic said it was to far gone to treat proper for a cure. Was going to move him to the infirmary to keep him comfortable until he passed on, but," Mal noticed Zoe's expression darken as she risked a glance over her shoulder at the sergeant behind them, "but the _liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze_ behind us killed him. Shot him right in the head."

For a split second, Mal entertained the thought of breaking the sergeant's neck, but thought better of it. Satisfying as that action would be, it wouldn't bring the private back and would earn him a severe beating. Likely earn him another round with the hotshot too.

If he was lucky.

Interrupting his thoughts, Zoe asked, "You really alright, Sarge? You weren't looking to good when they brought you back to the cell not a week ago."

Grimacing at the memory of what Reggie had done to him, Mal nodded. "Yeah. Andy took pretty good care of me. Fixed me up proper. Ribs are still a might sore, but the burns are pretty much all healed. Least so's they don't hurt anymore."

Face still tight with anger and a hint of fear at where they being taken, Zoe nodded towards the prod in Reggie's hand. "That what he used on you?"

"Yeah," Mal replied tightly.

The two walked in silence for a few minutes before Zoe asked, "You really okay, Sarge? Medic said you were getting better. He seems to be an okay guy, but..." The 'he's still a purple belly' was left unsaid.

"Ribs are still a mite bit sore, as are my wrists," Mal began. "Back feels pretty good. Only hurts when fools whack it with a rifle," he snarked, careful to keep his voice at a level only Zoe could hear.

Several minutes later, the major stopped. Mal looked around and realized they were in a shuttle bay. Reggie motioned to a shuttle to the right and ordered, "Get in."

Dreading the ride as much as the destination, and not ready for another whack to his back with a rifle -or that ruttin' hotshot- Mal did as he was told, Zoe, Andy and Reggie following close behind.

_TBC_

go tsao de = dog humping

Hwin dan! - Asshole!

Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze = Stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**  
**By Mickey**

Status: Completed 9/28/2010

Word Count: 1,650

* * *

The long shuttle ride had been uncomfortable to say the least -especially from his position on the floor- but much to Mal's relief, it had been uneventful. Reggie, while he occasionally shot glares Mal's way, had not used the hotshot again. Thank God for small miracles. Though he was feeling a right sight better, he still wasn't one hundred percent yet. Besides, regardless of how a person was feeling at any given time, that thing hurt like all hell. No wonder cattle herders had stopped using 'em long before they'd left Earth-that-was.

Not wanting to piss off Reggie anymore than he obviously already was -at least not for the time being- Mal had made the entire long trip in complete silence, suppressing even the urge to groan when he moved the wrong way and pulled at his still healing ribs. When they docked, he waited impatiently for someone to release the manacles that held him and Zoe to the floor. While he wasn't in any rush to get off the shuttle and on Tartarus' soil, his ribs and rear-end were mighty sore and he could do to stretch his legs.

Wordlessly, one of the guards -followed closely by a second- crouched beside them and released the manacles as the shuttle door slid open. Rifle at the ready, the other guard gave Mal a not so gentle prod with his foot.

"Get up."

Both hands bound together and his chest still sore, that was easier said than done.

The guard who'd unhooked them kicked Mal hard. Groaning, he resisted the urge to tell both the ruttin' bastards what he thought of them.

"Get up," guard one demanded and lifted his arm, ready to strike.

Biting his tongue, Mal managed to get his knees beneath them, and leaning against Zoe, who was already up, finally managed to get to his feet. Zoe, eyes a-blaze with anger, moved closer to him. "I'm okay," he assured her, but he noted her expression didn't change.

Motioning one of the Tartarus guards over, Reggie told her, "Take these two to prisoner processing. Get them their meds, show them the sleeping quarters and brief them on the regulations of this facility." Pointing to Mal with a malicious grin, he added, "And, Corporal, if either of them gives you _any_ trouble at all, even so much as makes a wise crack, punish him."

Patron, Mal noted her name tag before looking her in the eye, looked like she'd be all too happy comply with that last part of the order. "Sir, yes, sir!" Her hand went down to her baton and withdrew it. The look the pair of them exchanged told Mal he was likely to get a taste of the baton at some point soon whether he behaved himself or not.

Reggie turned and left and Patron eyed him, noticed where his gaze was and slapped the baton across her open palm a few times. Oh, yeah. She'd definitely be looking for an opportunity to hurt him. Mal wondered if it was because he was a browncoat, or if she just didn't like men. Or, just maybe, she simply enjoyed hurting people. Whatever the case may be, he decided he'd just keep his mouth shut for the time being and go with the flow. Last thing he needed was more torture.

As the guard led them to the processing area -occasionally poking Mal with her baton as they went along- he wondered if Reggie had ordered him beaten if _either_ of them acted up simply to keep Zoe in line, or because he was hoping for another reason to hurt him. Not that he really needed one. He seriously doubted prison mistreatment got reported to anyone. If it did, it probably didn't matter much to the higher ups anyways. After all, only the worst of the worst was sent here.

Supposedly. Mal had his doubts about that.

Several minutes later, they reached the mouth of one of the mines. To the left was a gray, metal structure. Prison processing, Mal guessed.

Patron guided them inside.

"Sit," she barked as they entered and pointed her baton towards a row of chairs. "Either one of you moves or I hear so much as a peep outta ya's, you will be sorry," she informed them, her eyes never leaving Mal's.

As they took their seats, Mal looked to Zoe and saw the same burning desire to do something, _anything_, but they both did as they were told. Now was not the time. Seeing as how they were still bound hand and foot, it'd be foolish to try anything at this point. Still, Mal didn't like it one bit. They didn't need words to know what each other was thinking. How the hell were they going to get themselves out of this fine mess?

A few minutes later, Patron approached them, two large bags in hand. Thrusting one at each of them, she ordered, "Get up."

They did as they were told and accepted the bag they were handed. Neither bothered to look inside.

"There's pills in there, Aproxicolin, take two every day with breakfast and again at dinner. Don't miss so much as one dose. Take 'em with a least a small amount of food. It ain't pleasant if you take 'em on an empty stomach." Without an explanation as to what the pills did or why it was so important not to miss even one dose, she moved on. "There's your toiletries and five sets of uniforms and seven of underclothes in your bag. Laundry day is Monday. Don't miss it or you'll be wearing dirty uniforms for a week. Believe me," she added with a maliciously gleeful grin, "It ain't pleasant wearing a dirty one for that long. Or even for one day for that matter. Clean towels are kept in the showerin' area. You get one shower a day. Make sure you take it. Don't wanna go skipping that either or you'll regret it. Don't dawdle though. You get exactly seven minutes to get in, wash, and rinse off."

And that made Mal believe, more than anything he'd heard so far, that he and Zoe had been sent to hell. What could possibly be in the air or earth on this planet that could make not only the pills, but regular showering and laundering _that_ damn important? He had a feeling, though she didn't seem inclined to mention it, that he knew what would happen if a person tried to take a longer shower than they were entitled to. Figured the pills kept you from dying a might sooner than if you didn't have 'em.

"You get new toilet supplies once every other week, so make 'em last. There's a lock in your bag to put on your trunk, which is at the end of your bed. Make sure you lock everything up. Anything gets stolen will not be replaced. Unless you wanna try to get it back yourself." She paused long enough to wave her baton in the direction of the door. "Move."

As they left the building and entered the mine, Mal noticed her slip a small breather unit from her pant pocket and put it on. It distorted her voice when she spoke again. "Men and women bunk together, no separate quarters here." With a pointed look, she added, "Don't mean you can get it into your head to share a bunk."

Yes, because that's exactly what they were plannin' on doing on this ruttin' hellhole!

After endless turns into the sparsely lit mine, they finally reached what was obviously the prisoner's quarters. Seeing that there were only about two dozen beds -if they could really be called that- in the room, Mal guessed that each section of the mine had its own living space.

Pointing to the only two unmade beds in the room, Patron informed them, "Your bedding is already at the foot of your bed. You got ten minutes to make it and get dressed before your shift leader arrives. Your area gets up at oh-five-hundred every morning and works from oh-five-thirty to nineteen hundred. You eat breakfast at oh-five-ten. Your shift leader will let you know when your rest breaks are. Dinner is at twenty-thirty hours. Lights out at twenty-two hundred. No exceptions. Miss a meal, you go hungry 'til the next one. Sergeant Franklin is your shift leader. He has little patience for slackers."

Which Mal took as a euphemism for, he really likes to hurt people who don't work to his liking.

As if reading his mind, Patron added, "He has his own... painful way of motivating them who need it."

"I'm thinking you need a demonstration." Before he could brace himself, Patron lashed out with the baton and caught Mal in the gut. As he sunk to his knees, she delivered a vicious blow to his still aching ribs. Turning to Zoe, she spat, "Try it, honey, and he'll get a lot worse than that."

Mal glanced at Zoe and caught her eye, gave a slight shake of his head. _This ain't the time._ She seemed to get the message and knelt by his side, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Grinning, Patron knelt beside them and undid their cuffs. "Don't even think about trying anything. There's two guards not fifty feet from here." Turning to Zoe, she added, "That goes for you too. Try anything, and he'll pay dearly." That said, she released Zoe's bonds and left the room, calling over her shoulder as she left, "You got five minutes."

As Mal gasped for breath, Zoe helped him to his feet. Glaring at the corporal's retreating back, he vowed that _somehow_ he was gonna get him and Zoe offa this God forsaken rock. And when he did, he was going to make the _Tyen-sah duh UH-muo_ who'd brought them here, and his twisted bitch lackey, pay dearly.

_TBC_

Tyen-sah duh UH-muo = Goddamn monsters


End file.
